


Caught Up In The Pleasure Or The Pain

by iwasanartist



Category: Castle
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexuality, F/M, First Time Together, Injury, Introspection, M/M, Making Up, Oral Sex, Secrets, Wordcount: 15.000-25.000, awesome parents, nonromantic betrayal, workplace blow job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasanartist/pseuds/iwasanartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ryan is hurt on the job, Esposito is forced to re-evaluate where they've been and where they're going.  Mostly set after the season five premiere, with Beckett and Esposito back from suspension, but there obviously had to be a branch from canon regarding Kevin/Jenny, which took place between seasons 3/4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Actions Speak Louder

**Author's Note:**

> It's possible that the first chapter could be seen as having mild dubcon, depending on your personal filter.

The hospital room was dark. The only light came from a flickering streetlamp muted through blinds and the colored lights from various medical equipment. It was just enough for Esposito to make out the lump that was his partner.

"It's not your fault," Beckett had said. 

"I should have been better," Esposito had answered. "He trusted me. I don't know why, but he trusted me, and I let him get shot."

"Grazed," Beckett corrected. Grazed, but for the grace of God. "He trusted you, because you're his partner. And he's going to be fine."

Esposito had humored her until she went away, back outside to talk to Castle and the swarm of police. Visitors of all stripes -- from traffic cops to deskies to detectives -- had descended on the hospital when the news broke. It seemed while he and Beckett had been suspended, Ryan had been doing his best to hold down the fort -- working double, sometimes triple shifts, to make up for being absent two detectives and a writer. His dedication had earned him a lot of friends.

But when Beckett was gone, Esposito turned back to the lump. It might have been the height of irony, how things had gone down. If Ryan were awake, Esposito was sure he'd confirm or correct that statement, but it seemed ironic to Esposito.

He thought back to their last real fight. Esposito had been a few weeks into his 12-week suspension when Ryan had stopped by. He looked a little worse for wear. The long hours probably explained it, but at the time, Esposito had taken it for guilt at ratting out his and Beckett's trip off the reservation to find Cole Maddox. And that, Esposito hadn't been ready to forgive. 

Not that it mattered.

"Don't you remember that day?" Ryan had yelled in response to some equally loud accusation Esposito had made. "Beckett told me to stay there and watch the monitors--"

"Which you couldn't even do."

"AND IF I HAD," Ryan continued over him, "Beckett would be splattered all over an alley right now! So, no, I don't regret it, and I'm not sorry!"

"But you didn't have to go to the captain, man," Esposito spat out. "There are a hundred things you could have done that weren't tattling like a fucking boy scout."

"Javi,"

"We trusted you," Esposito continued. "We trusted you, and you sold us out. No wonder Jenny left." 

Any other day, Esposito might have regretted those words -- drudged up from a long ago conversation -- the second they began tumbling out of his mouth. But not that day. That day, in his rage, he meant every one of them, and he could still remember their sting. Ryan's eyes flashed shock before he looked away, closing them as he ran a hand through his hair, looking for words. Lips tight, he looked back up.

"I thought you were dead," he said quietly, his voice shaking slightly. "When we got to that building, and I saw you on the floor, for a second, I thought you were dead, and a little piece of me died, too. And when I realized that you weren't. That you were okay..." Ryan swallowed hard and clenched his fists before wiping stubbornly at his eyes. He exhaled a sound that was almost a chuckle. "I guess it doesn't matter now, does it?" 

"Damn straight," Esposito had replied. "And if that's all you wanted to say, you can get the hell out."

Ryan set his jaw. His eyes hardened and his lips pursed tightly together. "Fine," he said as he backed away. "That's fine." He turned and walked out, with his head high, and it was the last Esposito saw or heard from him for the rest of his suspension.

Weeks later, when he went back to work, things were tense. He almost asked for reassignment, but he liked working with Beckett and Castle, and he wasn't completely stupid. He was just coming off disciplinary action and was in no place to be making requests. Which left a breakup of their team up to Ryan, and he didn't seem inclined to make that move. In fact, no matter how antagonistic Esposito became, it only seemed to make Ryan more professional. Even on those days when the man seemed wound on the tightest of strings and Esposito did his stubborn best to be intentionally hurtful, their casework didn't seem to suffer for whatever had been lost between them. Esposito was beginning to think this was just how the job was going to be.

And then this day had happened.

They were following a new lead in their case. Beckett had sent them to bring in the ex-girlfriend of a suspect at large. It was probably nothing -- the pair hadn't been seen together in a month and a half -- but they were running out of avenues to try. As they neared the apartment door, however, they heard a woman scream.

Drawing their weapons, they hurried down the hallway and entered the apartment, announcing themselves as they went. The ex came from a lot of money, and the place was huge. Ryan went to the left, Esposito to the right. When he entered a bedroom, he found a woman cowering on the floor.

"NYPD, let me see your hands!" he yelled, and she threw them immediately in the air as fearful cries erupted from her lips. Esposito scanned the room and saw curtains billowing from an open window. He was about to move toward them when the woman pointed her finger in the direction Esposito had come from.

"He went that way!" 

Giving the room a last glance, making sure notto turn his back to danger, Esposito headed backward when he heard the shots. He whirled around as another rang out. He followed them. His military experiences kicked into high gear as his ears led his feet to a bathroom where a black-clad man stood in the doorway pointing his weapon at an unseen target.

Esposito fired three fast shots. The man fell to the ground, but not before firing a final round. His eyes and weapon locked on the suspect, Esposito made a beeline for him. He was dead. Esposito could tell that before he got there, but he kept on target until the weapon had been cleared and he could confirm what he knew to be true. And then he turned around.

Esposito had never had a heart attack. He'd never drowned. He didn't know what it felt like to have his heart stop beating in his chest and drop to his stomach as his lungs refused to draw air. But he imagined it had to feel something like this. Ryan, his partner, sat slumped between a sink and a toilet against a white tiled wall marred by a streak of crimson as blood poured freely from a head wound.

Esposito holstered his weapon, hurried to him in three steps that felt like forever and dropped to a knee. Bracing himself, he reached a hand to Ryan's head. The woman from the bedroom appeared in the doorway then, screaming her head off at the sight before her.

"Shut up, and call 911!" he yelled at her. Stunned silent, she nodded and ran for a phone, but Esposito could already hear sirens in the distance. He turned his attention back to Ryan. His fingers and palm slid over the hot blood as he traced his partner's temple and moved backward. A choked cry of relief escaped his lips as he found no gaping wounds, no bone and no brain matter -- just blood. Lots of blood.

He laid a hand against Ryan's chest to steady them both. His dark sweater was sticky and saturated, but it was the frayed fabric that drew his immediate attention as his finger caught in a hole. 

Three shots.

Frantically, he pulled Ryan forward, felt behind him for exit wounds, but found nothing. He turned back to Ryan's clothes, tugging at his jacket, but not getting it loose. Pulling the collar of his sweater forward but not getting enough light to see anything beyond a red-stained shirt and tie. "Why so many goddamn layers?" Esposito thought to himself as he stuck his fingers in one of the sweater's bullet holes and pulled, tearing the fabric apart. Shoving the tie out of the way, Esposito popped a line of buttons as he ripped open Ryan's once crisp button-down shirt. 

What he saw sent a wave of relief down his body. Two slugs lay flat against a white vest, stained pink. It wasn't a hefty piece of kevlar like the blue they all wore when heading into known danger. This piece of under armor did just enough to *usually* keep small rounds from piercing skin but did little against anything else. Its tight, constricting construction made it such that it typically was worn only by newbies who thought every day would end in gunplay and old dogs counting the days to retirement.

Ryan was neither, but Esposito didn't care as he laid a hand on the projectiles. Ryan groaned. Maybe mumbled words Esposito couldn't make out. He wasn't concious by any stretch of the imagination but something inside him was beginning to stir, and it busted Esposito back into action.

His attention returned to Ryan's head, applying pressure with one hand to the wound that barely missed being so much worse and using the other to stabilize him. He leaned forward, and it was almost like a hug. One of Ryan's hands rested against Esposito's leg, and he could feel fingers begin to curl around the fabric of his pants.

"Hang in there, bro." Esposito whispered. "It's going to be okay."

And now they were here. Here, where Esposito had been assured that Ryan would indeed be okay. But he couldn't assure himself that *they* would be. Because it occurred to him as Beckett left that there was another type of cop who regularly wore the hidden vests.

The ones who didn't trust their surroundings.

Maybe Esposito had been wrong, and Ryan really didn't trust him at all. The thought brought old memories forward, and Esposito couldn't help but dwell over all that had happened to them -- professionally and personally -- that had led them to this moment.

It started innocently enough.

Esposito couldn't believe it had been more than a year since that night. At the tail-end of a New York summer, Ryan's air had gone out. Maintenance had given him the run-around on when they'd be done, and Esposito had offered up a few hours respite at his reasonably cool apartment stocked with definitely cold beer for some classic Madden time.

Everything seemed normal at first. They were most of the way through the first six-pack, with Ryan playing to his usual degree of badness. When Esposito sacked his quarterback for the fourth time in as many plays, he decided to put in some second-stringers at the half. No sense letting his stars get hurt on a game his bench could win, after all. He had just begun his rotation when Ryan's phone bleeped the unmistakable sound of a text from Jenny.

Rolling his eyes, Esposito decided to take a little more time reviewing stats of his players -- one text from Jenny had been known to turn into a 20 minute conversation as Ryan moved his fingers across the touch screen faster than Esposito could even dream of dialing, much less texting. Which is why he was surprised when Ryan flicked open the message, scanned it and put his phone back to sleep before tossing it onto the coffee table without responding.

"That's it?" he asked. 

"Huh?" Ryan popped his head up, eyebrows askew as if he had forgot Esposito was there.

"Usually you can't go 15 seconds without responding before she's calling you up all 'OMG, are you dead?!'" Esposito pointed out. "In the whole time you've known her, I've never seen just one text pass between you. What? She doesn't have 6,000 china patterns or wedding toppers she wants your opinion on?" 

Their wedding was still a half year away, but within the first weeks of their engagement, Jenny had spent an hour bending both their ears on invitations. "Kevin, which ones say 'Us,' not just 'Me' or 'You?'" she asked Ryan. "Which would you be most likely to respond quickly to, Javier?" she asked Esposito and on and on and on. He was pretty sure that by the time they got married, she'd have their life planned out to the menus for their golden anniversary.

"Yeah, uh, that's not happening," Ryan said with a cough as he fiddled with his controller.

"What?"

"Hmm?" Ryan looked back up, letting the controller fall into his lap.

"What do you mean 'that's not happening'?" 

"We're just, we're not getting married, is all," Ryan said, as if it were nothing.

"When did this happen?" 

Ryan looked at him sideways and bit his lip sheepishly.

"A couple months ago."

"A couple -- Dude!" 

"Look, there was a lot going on, with Beckett being shot and all that" Ryan said quickly, steamrolling over anything Esposito could say. "There just didn't seem like a good time and then so MUCH time had gone by, that..." His words trailed off and he sighed before looking back to the television. "You gonna fix your lineup, bro?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Esposito mashed buttons randomly until he had fielded enough players for the kickoff -- he was actually pretty sure he had just put his own kicker in to receive, and it was confirmed when one of Ryan's tackles took him out at his own 20-yard-line with an injury on the play.

"That was really dumb," Ryan said as animated trainers made their way onto the field.

"Yeah." Tiny pixels had just loaded more tiny pixels onto a stretcher when Esposito paused the game and set his controller down. "What's going on?"

"With me and Jenny?"

"No, with you and the pope," Esposito fired back. "Of course with you and Jenny."

"Right." Ryan picked up his beer and took a swig before rolling the glass bottle back and forth in his hands. "She decided she didn't think she could trust me, and since marriages are based on trust..."

"Wait a sec. She couldn't trust YOU? You're a boy scout. I mean, weren't you LITERALLY a Boy Scout?"

"For awhile," Ryan answered. "Through middle school, actually, but then it started to get in the way of baseball, and-"

"Bro," Esposito interrupted, stopping that tangent in its tracks.

"Right," Ryan said, pulling his focus back together. "We were out -- looking at china patterns," he added with a tip of his bottle to Esposito, "when we ran into someone I dated in college. It, uh... It threw her off balance."

"What, you trick a little hottie into going out with you back then?"

"Yeah," Ryan said with the closest thing to a smile and laugh since he got there. It quickly faded away as his thoughts turned back to his fiancee. His apparently ex-fiancee. "Anyway, it just...it got under her skin, and she couldn't stop thinking about how we'd get married, have some kids and then I'd cheat on her and -- you know, I wouldn't do that, right? Javi, you know, I'd NEVER do that--"

"I know!" Esposito said in total agreement. "That's just, crazy. I mean, Capital C and all the other letters CRAZY. I just...damn." Esposito retreated to the kitchen, returning with two new bottles. If anything warranted cracking the second six-pack, it was the newly discovered dissolution of his best friend's engagement.

"Let me get this straight," he said as he handed Ryan one bottle and took a drink from his own. "You're out trying to decide between fancy plates or fancier plates when you meet some girl you took out 15 years ago and all of a sudden she thinks you're going to start running off with your legion of exes whenever things get tough? Did I mention how crazy that was? Because godDAMN."

Ryan laughed around a mouthful of beer over words that -- under normal circumstances -- shouoldn't have been funny at all, but on this day seemed to tickle him.

"I think she was more conerned that-" he stopped midsentence, as if he had already said far too much. Any amusement that had been on his face slid away. He winced slightly as he set his bottle down on the coffee table and picked up his phone, tapping the case with his fingertips in a nervous drumbeat that set Esposito on edge.

"What was she afraid of?"

"Nah," Ryan said, flipping the phone over in his hands. "It's nothing. Stupid. Just craziness, like you said."

"Hey, man-"

"You know," Ryan interrupted, staring it his phone's black screen before shoving it in his pocket "I should really get out of here-"

"Bro-"

"She was just picking up the last of her stuff," Ryan stood up, smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt and took a few stops as he talked."She said the maintenance guys were about done," he headed for the door. Esposito rose to follow him.

"Ryan,"

"I should get over there, because they probably turned everything on full-blast. Next thing you know I'll have an electric bill Castle couldn't even afford-"

"Kevin!" Esposito reached and grabbed his wrist before he could get to the door. "The hell's wrong with you?" Kevin's eyes turned sharply to where Esposito had grabbed him and then back up to his face. He could feel him tense under his grasp, but couldn't read the expression in his eyes.

Sometimes Ryan could move astonishingly fast.

Without warning, before Esposito even had time to think about it, his back was against the wall. Ryan broke free from his grasp, and with hands on either side of Esposito's face, he moved forward and pressed their lips together.

There was no tongue. There was no lip-tugging or caressing. It kind of reminded him of 8th-grade spin-the-bottle, where his turn landed for the third time on the girl who couldn't stand him -- and who he certainly didn't want to french -- so they just mashed their lips together for longer than normal and hoped nobody noticed.

This lasted two seconds, and it was in those two seconds that Esposito finally understood all the things Ryan hadn't been saying. His hottie ex in the china shop hadn't been a girl he used to date, but a guy, and that had been all together too much for Jenny to handle. She could plan a thousand things, from wedding details to children to how they'd deal with dead parents and what they'd do if she were in a car crash or he never made it home from work. But one thing she couldn't deal with was the thought -- however wrong -- that one day she wouldn't be enough for her husband.

Ryan came to his senses and broke the kiss, removing his hands from Esposito's face and backing quickly away. Esposito knew he was staring, wide-eyed and agape, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't do anything but watch as red flushed its way up Ryan's neck, around his ears and into his cheeks

"I'm sorry," Ryan said. "I'm sorry." He wiped his mouth, shoved his hands in his pockets, pulled them back out and crossed his arms across his chest, looking everywhere but at Esposito as blind panic and a desperate need for flight began to set in. "I'm sorry, Javi."

To this day, he didn't know what had come over himself. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was the beer or that he hadn't had a date in six weeks, or the way Ryan said his name, but before he had time to really think about it -- before he could change his mind -- Esposito reached out and pulled Ryan into a hard kiss. 

Ryan tensed, pushed back briefly -- more out of surprise than anything -- before relaxing in his arms. He parted his lips, allowing Javier access, and soon was kissing him back, their tongues tangling together like dancing flames.

Esposito turned, pinning Ryan roughly against the wall. His mouth moved to the soft, pale skin of Ryan's neck. With their bodies pressed firmly together and Ryan panting into his ear, he couldn't hold back a groan as his pants began to tighten. God, was he really hard? Was he really macking on a dude -- his work partner and best friend -- in his apartment and getting hard over it?

Ryan's hands moved down his back and stopped at his waist before sliding to the front, putting just enough space between them to work Esposito's fly open and rub the bulging cotton of his briefs. Fingers tugged at the elastic waistband before slipping beneath.

"Bro,"

Ryan kissed him and as he gave the briefs a tug, freeing his cock and wrapping long fingers around it. He began to stroke softly as his lips traveled down Esposito's neck, nipping and suckling at his collar bone. 

It was more than he could stand. If he had only been half hard before, he was rock hard now. Frantically, he pawed at Ryan's belt, letting the strip of leather and metal clatter to the floor before undoing his pants and sliding them down. He manuevered Ryan to the hallway writing desk where he mostly let bills and magazine subscriptions stack up for months at a time. He leaned into Ryan, holding him in place, and opened a desk drawer. His fingers fluttered over sets of batteries, pens and pieces of scratch paper before reaching a small foil package and plastic bottle shoved in a back corner. 

His roommate at the police academy had once told him that he hid condoms in every room of his apartment. " _You never know where you'll be when things heat up, or how quick they can go cold while you're off looking for a rubber."_ It was a lesson Esposito had taken to heart.

Condom in place, he pulled at Ryan's boxers, tugging them to his knees, before lubing up. He leaned forward, parting Ryan's cheeks with the head of his cock, spreading the slick liquid gel. He didn't enter him, but Ryan drew a sharp breath that gave Javier a moment's pause. It wasn't that he had never done this before, but he'd never done it with another man. Second thoughts began to swirl in his brain before Ryan leaned backward, pressing the very tip of Javier's erection into him, and Javier thought no more as he pushed forward.

He had once dated a Latina girl who said his lovemaking was a mix of spicy and sweet. Like chiles and chocolate. He didn't really understand that -- not that it had stopped him from using the metaphor as a surprisingly successful pickup line -- but he was pretty sure this wasn't it.

If anything, this was rough and scalding -- like burnt coffee after a two-day bender -- as he thrust his hips forward, the tightness around his cock making his eyes swim and his breath stop. The desk swayed with his movements, and as Ryan reached down to stroke himself, Javier told himself it was for stability that he grabbed his wrist put it back on the edge, holding it tight in his grasp. Ryan groaned, the sound almost lost in the creak of the desk, and Javier didn't know if it was from his grip or his dick, but he was too close to care.

Beginning to lose his own balance, he let go of Ryan, his palm landing on the slick cover of the latest Sports Illustrated, and his fingers curling at the edges of an old utility bill. Beyond swaying -- beyond creaking -- the desk beneath them was beginning to slide in jerky thrusts that banged against the floor as Javier plunged deeper and faster.

And when he came, it was almost too much. His hand slipped, sending papers and periodicals careening to the floor. The desk lurched ahead, and Ryan thrust a leg out, bending slightly at the knee and taking his weight as Javier fell forward. If Ryan had been a little slower or a little weaker, things could have ended very badly for both them, but as it stood, the movement sent a shiver of pleasure through him as he finished with a loud sigh of release. He gave one last thrust of his hips before carefully pulling out and turning to lean against the wall, panting heavily as he waited for his world to return to some semblance of normal. Ryan, perhaps finding it easier, lowered himself all the way to the floor, resting his forehead against the edge of the desk. 

Esposito glanced at him, briefly feeling like he should offer to help him to his feet. It seemed like a common courtesy after shoving your dick up someone's ass, after all. Those weren't the words that came out of his mouth.

"I'm gonna take a piss," he said as he pushed off of the wall and stumbled to the bathroom. As the door slammed, he turned on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness. He removed the condom and took care of business, all the while trying to figure out his next move. Did that really just happen? Did he really just fuck his best friend -- his best *male* friend -- over a desk in the middle of his apartment?

Briefly, he wanted to run. Slip out of the bathroom, out the door and down the street to the nearest bar where he could continue getting his drunk on until he forgot all about this day. Then he splashed some water on his face and remembered that he was a grown man and Ryan was his friend, not some bad decision after a night on the town. 

Steeling himself, he dried off and stepped out. 

At first he thought the apartment was empty. Maybe Ryan had had the same thoughts and left before there could be any awkwardness. Then he heard the unmistakable clnk of glass bottles in the recycling bin just before Ryan stepped out of the kitchen. His shirt was untucked -- Javier wasn't sure he'd ever seen Ryan even a little disheveled before -- but he was fully dressed again. 

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Bathroom's yours, if you need it," Esposito said, pointing stupidly as if Ryan didn't know where it was and couldn't tell it was empty.

"Great, thanks." Ryan slipped silently by, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Esposito took stock of the living room. Ryan had cleaned up their beer and pizza. The desk was pushed back the handful of inches it had migrated, and all the papers and magazines had been picked off the floor and neatly stacked atop it. If anything, it was even more organized than when Esposito got up that morning. He picked up a form for his gym membership. He'd been meaning to cancel it for weeks but hadn't been able to find the slip of paper.

The bathroom door opened, and Ryan stepped out -- cleaned up, without a hair out of place. Silence stretched between them as Esposito glanced over the items on his desk and Ryan fiddled with his phone before putting it in his pocket.

"We're okay, right?" Ryan finally asked. "That was just..."

"Just a thing."

"It happened."

"All that beer, probably."

"Heat, too. Messes with the head."

"Exactly."

"Yeah." Ryan glanced down at his shoes before looking back up. "So, I'm gonna go," he said. "Maintenance guys really were done, I wasn't just saying that."

"Sure." Ryan squeezed past him and was almost to the door when Esposito called after him. "Hey, Ryan!"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you say anything? About, you know..."

Ryan looked at his shoes and smiled briefly -- not a funny smile, just a knowing one, like he had been waiting for the question he didn't need Esposito to finish.

"I guess it didn't seem like it mattered," he said, looking back up. "I was with Jenny. And before that, I wasn't with anyone. Not seriously, and the people I did see were all women, so..."

"Yeah, but, dude."

"Look," Ryan said as he took a step closer. "You know I made detective pretty young, right?" Esposito nodded. "So, I was the young guy to begin with, then I was the new guy in narcotics and the new guy in homicide, and I know times are changing, but I wasn't ready to be the gay guy, too."

"But you're not," Esposito said. "The thing with Jenny...that was real, right?"

"Yeah," Ryan said with another slight smile that Esposito couldn't quite read. "But there aren't a lot of people I trust to make that distinction." He patted Esposito on the shoulder before turning away again, and Esposito couldn't help but feel a little pride at being counted among the few -- even if it was an admission that came accidentally after three years and two too many beers.

"We still on for Sunday Madden?" Esposito called after him, eager to get beyond that last, horrendous play on the field.

"Yeah," Ryan called back, with a fist in the air, only to lower it with a wince and turn around. "No," he said. "My sister's having a baby shower Sunday."

"Tess is having a baby?"

"No, Carrie." 

Ah, the middle sister. Esposito had heard a lot over the years about Ryan's older sisters. There was Theresa, or Tess, older by five years, and Carrie, three years older and married to a Marine.

"I thought she had that baby already?"

"Two years ago," Ryan said. "This is a new one, try to keep up."

Esposito couldn't help but laugh.

"Anyway, all the men of the family are getting together to watch Tommy -- Baby One," Ryan added helpfully, "and I don't know, do some sort of manly whatever to counteract all the estrogen flying around the shower. Wanna come?"

"How far away is Boy's Night Out gonna be?"

"Back porch," Ryan answered sheepishly.

"Pass," Esposito said. "No offense."

"None taken," Ryan said with a laugh. "But we're cool, right?"

"Yeah, bro. We're cool."

And they were cool, by all outward appearances. 

That Monday, they both showed up for work, indulged Castle in his latest wacky theory about a murder, and he pretended like he believed Ryan when Beckett noticed the fading yellow bruise on his left wrist that he said was from a flagrant foul during basketball with the brother-in-law.

In fact, if he tried really hard, he could almost convince himself that he believed it, too. And when he tried harder still, he could pretend like seeing the dark marks on pale skin weren't turning him on in entirely inappropriate ways.

But that was Monday.

By Wednesday, the bruises were gone, drunken sex was all but forgotten and life was back to normal at the 12th Precinct. Even when Ryan came clean to everyone else about Jenny's exit, things went about like anyone would expect. He was light on the timing and details, Esposito noted, but that was the extent of his own mental callback to that night.

It was all just normal. Two months later, he realized how wrong he had been. 

They'd been working a hard case. Two dead, few clues, and nothing that could definitely link the crime to the only remotely viable suspect. They knew it, and more importantly the suspect knew it. He'd been hauled in twice for questioning, and on the third time, they were still no closer than they had been on the day they got called to the scene.

And then he taunted them. Not enough to pinch him for the crimes, but enough -- just enough -- for Esposito to know that he knew he was about to get away with murder, and it made Esposito's blood boil.

He lunged for the man, had him by his shirt before Castle stepped between them. He wasn't a cop, but he was a big guy, Castle. He was enough to separate them, but not enough to stop Esposito as he went back for more and Beckett shouted at him from across the room. She couldn't stop him, either.

And then there was Ryan. He grabbed Esposito from behind, pulled and spun until they were facing the other way. Esposito tried to turn back, but Ryan muscled him a few steps further. Castle was at his side again.

"Dude, what the hell?" he said as he grabbed Esposito's sleeve.

"I got this, Castle," Ryan said as they rounded a corner. There must have been something in the way he said it or a look in his eye that Esposito couldn't see, but Castle backed off, mumbling something as Ryan hauled him down the corridor and pushed them through the door of the men's locker room and flicked the lock.

"You need to calm down," Ryan said just this side of harshly.

"Calm down?" Esposito spat back. "Calm down, that guy practically admitted it!"

"Well, then it's a good thing 'practically' is all the jury needs to convict these days, isn't it?" Ryan said, not bothering to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

"Look, bro, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but you need to get out of my way right now."

"Can't do that." 

They stood in silence for a moment, staring each other down, both waiting for the other to blink. Esposito shook his head and went to push his way past. But once again he found that sometimes Ryan could move astonishingly fast.

They were about the same height, and Esposito had at least 15 pounds on Ryan, but Ryan was lean and wiry and well-trained. Perhaps if Esposito hadn't been so angry, he would have seen and avoided Ryan's counter, but as it was -- before he had taken so many as two steps -- Ryan had Esposito's arm pinned behind his back, sandwiched between the two of them, with another hand on his opposite shoulder as he pushed him through the room past rows of lockers and toilets, glancing left and right to make sure the place was empty until they reached the end of the rows of lockers.

Ryan took a sharp right, guiding him past more lockers until they reached a break, where there clearly was a plan to finish the row before money ran out, but instead left behind a bare patch of wall, deep enough to put them just out of sight from anybody who wasn't sitting on the wooden bench in front of them.

"You need to relax," Ryan whispered as he leaned in close. His breath tickled Esposito's neck as his hand traveled down his torso and settled at his hip. Esposito's eyes widened.

"Are you crazy?!" he whispered back 

"I'm not the one who just tried to rip a suspect's face off." Ryan pressed his lips to Esposito's neck. His tongue traveled upward, caressing his earlobe as the hand on his hip slid over to cup him through his pants.

"We shouldn't be doing this here," Esposito said, but he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering closed at the sensations.

"Says who?"

Esposito drew a deep breath. He swallowed hard, searching for an answer, but all he could focus on was Ryan's touch. The corners of his mouth turned up into a faint smile as Ryan peppered kisses down his jaw line.

Then a door opened, and Esposito's eyes snapped open. He pushed Ryan aside, flattening them both against the wall and listened. His whole body tensed as he remembered the door at the opposite end of the room, by the urinals. The one Ryan hadn't locked. 

Esposito's eyes focused on a dark spot on the side of the locker next to him, where time and neglect had chipped away at the beige paint, but his ears were trained on the door. His heart pounded as footfalls crossed the linoleum. Were they coming his way? What if it was Castle? Esposito held his breath, waiting. The new occupant began to whistle, and Esposito let his breath out. It wasn't Castle, but Hansen. A new cop -- the happy-go-lucky sort with a love of movies whose tunes he was always whistling or humming. The realization should have set his mind at ease -- especially when a stall door slammed shut -- and it did a little bit, but not enough. 

He felt Ryan shift next to him, but remained focused on everything but the tiny bit of locker room they occupied. He barely registered Ryan's hands at his hips. It wasn't until he felt a faint pressure on his groin that he turned away from the sounds he was hearing and looked down to find Ryan on his knees, face nuzzling against Esposito's crotch as his hand had been earlier.

"What are you doing?!" Esposito hissed, but Ryan just looked up at him with a playful smile and shrugged his shoulders before surrounding the bulge in Esposito's pants with his mouth.

A toilet flushed.

Esposito swatted at Ryan's head as the stall door opened. Ryan caught a finger in his mouth and Esposito stilled as wet warmth surrounded him. Ryan curled his tongue, his teeth lightly holding him below the second knuckle, and began to suck. Esposito closed his eyes, dimly aware of footsteps, running water and everpresent cursing that happened any time somebody spent 10 seconds waving their hands under the motion-sensor of the paper towel dispenser. As the machine finally whirred to life, Esposito took his free hand and undid the button of his jeans and loosed the zipper.

Ryan let his finger go and turned his attention to Esposito's stiffening cock. Once again, he surrounded the bulge with his mouth, letting his tongue course around, leaving a damp spot on Esposito's briefs before sliding his hands up and pulling him out of the cotton underwear.

He started at the base, his lips -- Esposito had never noticed how incredibly soft they were -- massaging with gentle, licking kisses all the way to his tip. He paused there for a moment, letting his hot breath wash over his head, sending a slight chill where his mouth had been, before circling it with his tongue and traveling down the other side of Esposito's length before passing the erection through his lips. It was just the head at first, which he lavished with his tongue, tickling, lapping and providing just enough suction to make Esposito squirm.

Ryan moved forward, taking more of him in. His head rubbed across the roof of Ryan's mouth, sliding over the ridges before meeting the softer tissue just ahead of his throat. As Ryan bobbed his head forward and back, Esposito's hand traveled under his shirt until his finger, still slick from Ryan's mouth, reached his nipple, tracing around it and gliding across with ease. 

His mouth filled with saliva as he licked his lips, holding the lower one between his teeth as his chest heaved with deep, silent breaths. In that moment, his world began to slip away. Anger at the suspect he could barely remember. Fear of being caught. Anxiety over the man at his feet and what that might mean. It was all gone.

A familiar tightening settled in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm close," he whispered, but nothing changed -- if anything, Ryan ran his tongue even more sensuously around Esposito's cock. "I'm close," he said again through labored breaths, this time taking his hand from under his shirt and tapping the side of Ryan's head. "I'm...I'm gonna come."

Ryan grabbed his hand, still knocking absolutely rhythmlessly against his temple and placed it on his shoulder, Esposito's fingers curling slightly at the back of his neck. "Mm hmm," he mumbled around Esposito, and the vibration sent a shiver down his spine. Ryan leaned forward, taking all of Esposito in his mouth and wrapping his arms around him. Esposito's hand fell from Ryan's neck and clutched the back of his jacket as Ryan worked his mouth and throat.

Esposito bit his lip and buried his face in his sleeve to keep from crying out, but he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting as he came. Ryan moved with him, backing off just enough that his come hit the back of his tongue and was there when he went down again, pushing Esposito's cock through his own cream and back out again.

Esposito slumped against the wall as Ryan licked him clean before rising to his feet. 

"Better?" he whispered. Esposito could smell himself on Ryan's breath, and while he found the thought unnerving, the moment of clarity that came with coming was enough to make him realize that Ryan was right. Losing his temper on a suspect would help no one. He nodded. "Good," Ryan said. He smiled as he walked away, lightly running his fingers over Esposito's sleeve, stopping at the end of the lockers and sparing just one look back before disappearing around the corner.

Esposito shook his head as he put himself back together. Past his blind rage, he really did feel better. But clarity can be a tricky thing, and it wasn't long before his mind wandered back to what had just happened. What if someone had walked in? Hell, someone HAD walked in -- and the thought of being caught like that was enough to make Esposito's stomach turn. He wasn't sure why it didn't seem to bother Ryan given the things he had said their first time together.

But he couldn't be too angry. It's hard to be mad when an orgasmic glow is still working its way through the bones, but a chill in his core kept reality in sharp focus. He smoothed his shirt once more, checking again to make sure everything seemed in place before stepping out from the lockers. 

Ryan was at the sinks, his hands cupped under a running faucet. He brought water to his mouth and swished it around before spitting into the porcelain. He just turned the sink's knob when Esposito reached him, dropped a hand on his shoulder and brought him face-to-face. A few drops of water clung to his lips, sliding down his chin and threatening to leave a spots on his shirt or tie. Esposito shut his eyes to the image, turning his head slightly, and when he opened them again he looked Ryan firmly in the eye.

"Never here," he said firmly. It had felt good, Esposito couldn't deny that, but it was far, far too dangerous.

"Yeah, okay." Ryan nodded his head, as he ran the back of his hand across his mouth, brushed past Esposito and walked out the door. A moment later, Esposito followed.

That day had been a turning point. A tacit OK for more meetings. They weren't regular rendevous. Over the next six months they were together six, maybe seven, times. And they still dated. In the wake of Jenny's exit, Castle had opened his black book to Ryan and funneled any number of hot young things his way. And Esposito rarely had problems landing a date. They even doubled a few times early on, though Esposito started backing out of those plans once Mindy, his girl of the week, asked if he thought he and his partner would be interested in a threesome.

"I've got a good eye, and I see something there," she had said with a wink and a smirk. "Plus it'd just be really fucking hot."

Esposito hemmed and hawed, but as she pressed, he eventually said he'd test the waters on that one. She went home with him that night, and they had some mindblowing sex, but it ended between them a few weeks later, waters completely untested.

He just couldn't do it. Hooking up at the tail end of a drunken gathering or after a hard case where it helped to be with somebody else who understood was one thing. But arranging a threesome required thought and planning, and plans implied relationships, and Ryan was just his friend. His friend and his partner and if they sometimes fucked, that was okay, but that's where it had to stop.

And that worked. In fact, it worked really well. Until the wheels fell off of everything they knew.

Beckett was fixated on finding the man who had shot her -- and the man who had ordered it and the slaying of her mother years earlier -- and really who could blame her? Not Esposito, that was for damned sure. 

It was a mess. A mess that began with dirty cops 20 years ago, so when they were close to zeroing in on Cole Maddox, the usual protocols weren't an option. Beckett knew that. Esposito knew that. Ryan refused to believe it. So they left him at the precinct that day, thinking he would have their backs from afar as they went just a little bit rogue.

But he didn't, and Maddox got away. And it worked out in the end, but not before there were suspensions and resignations and threats, and the world went all to hell. During that time, Esposito spent so much time angry at Ryan. So much time hating him, and wanting him to just go away.

Now all he wanted was for him to be okay.


	2. A Different Kind of Deja Vu

The hospital kept Ryan overnight for observation. When he was released the next day, it was with the recommendation that he stay with somebody. Aside from the shots to the chest and the graze to his temple, he'd hit the bathroom wall with his head pretty hard.

Castle and Beckett hadn't been there when the suggestion was made. Ryan's parents were still trying to find a flight in from the Florida home they'd retired to, and his sister Tess had embarked on a cruise a few days earlier with her husband in a last-ditch effort to save a crumbling marriage. 

It was just Esposito and Carrie waiting in the hall while the doctor finished up with Ryan.

"He should stay at your place," Carrie said. Esposito tried to argue, but he had no answer for a small house, two kids under five and a recently deployed husband. And so, that night, Ryan walked into Esposito's apartment clutching an overnight bag to his chest and glancing warily around.

"Place hasn't changed much," he said.

"Nope." In fact, the only difference was the new desk that Esposito tossed his keys onto. The replacement for the infamous rickety writing table he had kicked the legs out from under shortly after his suspension. "I cleaned the bedroom up for you; I'll take the couch."

"Hey, no man. I don't want to kick you out of your room-"

"It's fine," Esposito answered. And it was fine. Not just because Carrie had demanded it -- and Esposito was beginning to see why Ryan always said she was the one you didn't want to argue with -- but also because, though he would be loath to admit it to anyone, possibly even himself, a night with a spring in his back and a streetlight shining through the window was a small penance to pay.

That was Friday night.

Saturday got off to an interesting start. Esposito hadn't actually planned for an overnight guest, and when they got up that morning, he found nothing in his refrigerator but half a pastrami sandwich, beer and milk that may or may not have turned. Not that the milk mattered, because the cereal box atop the fridge contained little more than the sugary dust of Cinnamon Life.

He was about to offer a sheepish explanation when Ryan's parents came knocking on the door. As soon as it was open, Mrs. Ryan burst through and ran to her youngest child, wrapping her arms around him and holding him in a tight hug -- the sort that seem like they might never end. Mr. Ryan was behind her, struggling with three bags.

"A little help here, son?" he asked. 

"Oh, sure." Esposito grabbed the bag that threatened to slip from Mr. Ryan's fingers and took a second from under the man's arm. "What are you..." Esposito trailed off, unable to determine if directly questioning why they were bringing bags into his apartment would be rude but unable to find more delicate phrasing.

"Don't worry, we're not moving in or anything," he replied. "There's just a problem with the hotel -- oh for god's sake, Ellie, would you let the boy alone?"

"Hey, pop," Ryan answered over her shoulder as his mother loosened her grip and stepped back just enough to hold Ryan's face in her hands. Gently, she brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over the bandage covering his stitches, sniffed once and kissed his cheek before stepping away.

"Javier, how are you?" she asked as she moved over to him, grasping his forearm, and in a surprise move, leaning forward and kissing his own cheek before moving to his ear. "Thank you for looking out for him," she whispered.

"I didn't do anything," he whispered back. She smiled and patted his shoulder, as if she knew some kind of secret and was just waiting for him to figure it out. Esposito turned to Ryan and his father. They shared a handshake, but Esposito thought he saw Mr. Ryan's hand linger just a moment longer at his son's sleeve. It was a touching family moment that Esposito felt like an intruder to.

As if on cue, Ryan cleared his throat. "How was your flight?" he asked.

"Oh, don't get him started," Mrs. Ryan said just before her husband jumped in.

"Delayed! Twice! Overbooking should be a crime," Mr. Ryan grumbled. "And then we got pulled aside for 'random' security checks. And I understand TSA is a tough job -- I wouldn't want it, and I respect the people who do it, but there's no reason to hold up people who've already been held up..."

Mr. Ryan continued to rant about airports, security and a million other things as his wife just smiled and leaned against the counter, perched atop the bar stool like a bird. Ryan listened, nodding his head from time to time and making the ocassional "Yep, I hear ya, Pop" of appeasement. Finally Mr. Ryan stopped talking, perhaps having realized he'd been monopolizing the conversation. Or perhaps hearing the loud rumble of Esposito's stomach.

"Have you boys eaten yet?" he asked.

"Nah," Esposito answered. "We were about-"

"Well, let's go get you something then! I saw a little place when we were coming in -- lived in the city my whole life and never seen it before. Let's have a look. Our treat."

"Mr. Ryan, you don't have to-"

"No, no I insist," he interrupted. "It's the least we can do. Now, help me with these bags again, would you?" 

Esposito glanced at Ryan, who just shrugged his shoulders and nodded to the bags. Shaking his head, Esposito picked two up and the four of them headed out the door. 

The small bistro was an excellent little place for brunch that actually had been there for 30 some years. Esposito didn't know how he didn't know about it either, other than he wasn't really a brunch sort of guy. But the food was great, and half the neighborhood seemed to agree. Nearly every table was packed with people. The Ryans' bags worked in their favor, and the owner rushed to get them a table. 

Mr. and Mrs. Ryan treated Esposito like he was family, and the only conclusion he could draw was that Ryan hadn't told them about their falling out. But if Ryan wasn't saying anything, he wasn't either, and it was nice to be out again, spending time together like they always had.

The four of them bantered back and and forth easily, but Esposito could tell Ryan was beginning to wear out. It wasn't so much that he was tired -- Esposito had seem him still going strong on a 36-hour day thanks to a freaky constitution and steady coffee drip. But it was loud in the restaurant, and he wasn't 100 percent. His signals were subtle, but Esposito saw as he cocked his head slightly to the left when his parents spoke, putting his right ear toward the conversation.

The left side was where the bullet had whizzed by, robbing him, hopefully temporarily, of hearing. He didn't seem to mind at first, but he wasn't a lip-reader, and as the restaurant filled up, and it got harder to pick their voices out of the surroundings, his brow would furrow before he covered by shoving a forkful of eggs in his mouth, nodding as if he had caught every word.

Esposito was sure it was taxing, and he was equally sure Ryan would never say anything about it to his parents for fear of reminding his mother how close she had come to losing her baby. He decided to take over.

"Where are you guys staying?" he asked them.

Mr. Ryan wiped his face with a napkin before answering.

"Not sure yet," he said. "Carrie's getting a spare room set up for us, but we were going to be in the hotel today, and you know how that worked out." He tapped one of the bags at their feet with his toe. "I guess we'll start making some calls and see what's available. Hopefully not The Ritz or someplace like that."

"Oh, honey, The Ritz wouldn't even let us in the door," Mrs. Ryan retorted with a gentle swipe at his forearm. They laughed and the comfortableness between them was one that Esposito hadn't even reaized he envied until face-to-face with it.

"Why don't you stay at Ry- uh, Kevin's? Spend some time together, just the three of you?" he asked. Ryan glanced quizzically at him. Mrs. Ryan tried to hide a laugh.

"Could you imagine the three of us, grown adults, huddled into that little studio? We'd be tearing each other's hair out."

Studio? The word gave Esposito pause, and he almost repeated it, catching himself before the first syllable could make it past his lips. He didn't realize Ryan had moved. He covered quickly -- fast enough that neither of the elder Ryans noticed.

"So, uh, why don't the two of you stay there? Save a buck and Kevin can stay with me again, while Carrie gets things set up for you."

"I do like saving a buck," Mr. Ryan answered. "Yes, he does," Mrs. Ryan immediately followed.

"I don't know, Javier," Ryan said. "I don't want to keep putting you out or anything,"

"Nah, it's cool, bro. " Ryan's eyebrow raised slightly at the epithet that they hadn't used for each other in so long, but he didn't look averse to it. Esposito should have stopped there, but carried on. "Unless maybe you've got some 'magazines' hanging out that need squirreled away..." He meant it as a joke -- the type they used to share without a care in the world. But they weren't back to that level yet, either of them. It just came out, and Ryan's ears had begun to take on a pink hue.

"Pshh," Mr. Ryan said with an oblivious wave of his hand. "Nothing we haven't seen before. You know, I bought him his first Hustler when he was 14?"

"Dad!"

"Nothing compared to what *I* bought when he was 16," Mrs. Ryan muttered into her coffee mug.

"Oh, my god." Ryan buried his face in one hand and reached blindly for a water glass with the other. Esposito was confused.

"I don't underst..."

"Maybe it's best you don't," Mrs. Ryan said quickly as she deftly picked up the conversation where it had left off before taking a tangent. "If you boys don't mind bunking another night, I actually think that's a really good idea, Javier."

And so it was settled. After brunch they grabbed a cab to Ryan's place. Esposito thought he hid his shock well. Calling the place a postage stamp of an apartment would be charitable. He had no idea when this had happened, and being there gave him a feeling of discomfort that he couldn't seem to shake. With that in mind, he bid the Ryan family farewell and headed to the market with the promise to return in the evening to pick Ryan up.

That night, the ride back to his place was quiet. When they got there, he began putting groceries away and watched Ryan out of the corner of his eye. Things had been tense since brunch. 

They ate a light dinner, saying nothing, and it reminded Esposito of his return to work. Plenty of time together full of awkward silences and quick glances. He wanted to make it right. Or at least make the feeling in his stomach go away.

"Madden?" he finally said, breaking the silence.

"Sure."

Esposito had never been one to throw games, and he wasn't about to start tonight, but he did do everything he could think of to give Ryan an advantage. He played his second-string quarterback ("saving his health for a bigger game" was the excuse). He sat to Ryan's left, ignoring the way the unfamiliar cushion hadn't molded itself to him, so that his ocassional bouts of trash talk or cheers to the players were less likely to disturb him. Not that he said much this game. And not that he played terribly well.

Because, while he should have been focusing on the plays, all he could focus on was Ryan, their feud and how close his partner actually had been to death. A millimeter the other way, and that would have been it. The last thing he would have said to his partner would have been some smart-ass remark or another. It hurt him to his core, and he wished that he could talk about it, but that just wasn't done. Or, if it ever was done, it wasn't the sort of monologue you rushed into all of a sudden after being an ass for four months. He didn't have a right to do that, did he? And he didn't know what he'd say if he did.

So instead he sat there, numbly flicking the thumbsticks of his controller, quieter than ever and sneaking glances to his right after every play. It wasn't too bad. Even with his attention elsewhere, muscle memory kept him from failing too many plays, though he wasn't up to his normal standard by a long shot. And he thought he was being discreet.

But he wasn't really, and soon Ryan paused the game and turned to Esposito.

"What?"

"'What'what?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm not looking at you like-"

"Javier." Esposito stopped talking immediately. "You've been giving me the side eye since we started. You're playing like crap and you've barely said a word. If you want to talk, let's talk, okay? But stop pretending like there's nothing going on.”

Esposito looked down at the controller in his hands and scratched his thumbnail over a fleck of dried pizza sauce leftover from who knew how many games ago. For a moment he thought if he just sat there long enough, Ryan would shrug his shoulders and turn back to the game, maybe a little grumpier than before. But that didn't happen. He just turned his body so his back rested against the arm of the couch and pulled one foot up into his lap, drumming his fingers against his knee. Waiting.

Esposito swallowed as he set the controller down on the coffee table. Since Ryan had been shot, he'd been thinking about how he wanted things to be different between them, but never once did he think about what to say. Didn't think he'd have to. Actions were supposed to speak louder than words, after all. But not so much on this day. There was really only one thought in his head, and it was sincere, but he was afraid Ryan would just think it was a cop out. But the time for worrying about that was over.

"I thought you were dead, Kevin," he said. "When I saw you in that bathroom, I thought you were dead, and..." He stopped talking and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a deep breath and held it, unable to let it out for fear of what might come with it. He stood, finally exhaling and making his way to the desk.

"If you don't want to play, I picked up some movies," he said as he grabbed a white plastic bag. 

"Javi,"

"I've got those 'Lord of the Rings' movies. It'd be like 9 hours, but whatever -"

"I'm okay."

"'Willow,' it's got Val Kilmer and that little guy who played an ewok on 'Return of the Jedi' in it. There's magic,"

"It's okay," Kevin took to his feet and stepped closer as Javier fumbled with DVD cases.

"And 'Ladyhawke'" Kevin moved closer. "I don't know what it's about but Ferris Bueller's in it and the guy at the store said-" Javier's words were cut off as Kevin pressed their lips together. The DVDs slipped from Javier's hands and fell to the floor. Kevin wrapped his arms around Javier, holding him close.

"We're okay," he whispered as he stood cheek-to-cheek with Javier. Javier lowered his head to Kevin's shoulder. Soon his lips were on his neck, traveling across his throat until he found his mouth. Kevin kissed him back, and for that moment, their past slipped away as Javier's tongue slid beneath his, as his teeth nibbled on his lower lip and his hands clenched at the back of Kevin's shirt.

Javier let himself be pulled to the bedroom. Let his shirt be slipped over his head and the rest of clothes removed piece by piece as Kevin covered his face, neck and chest with soft kisses. Their previous encounters had always left the two of them in various stages of undress, neither ever opening fully to the other, but this time, when they sat on the bed, they were both naked for the first time. 

For Javier, it was a surreal experience. He kept his lips on Kevin's, for the most part, leaving only for his neck and that tender, mildly ticklish spot where his jaw met his ear. He closed his eyes as he allowed his hand to rest at Kevin's throat. Slowly, he moved downward until his palm met Kevin's breast, so different from any he had felt before. The pads of his fingers dug into flesh as he pulled him closer, until Javier could feel lips on his neck. His hand slid down farther and Kevin flinched.

Javier's eyes snapped open and he quickly retreated.

"Are you okay?!"

"Fine," Kevin answered as he laid a hand on Javier's forearm. "It just tickled a little." Javier was unconvinced, but Kevin pulled Javier's arm toward him and gently rested his hand on the bruises that dotted his torso. Unlike the rest of Kevin's body that he had touched, these spots were rougher, like the finest grain of sandpaper. Kevin sighed as he slid Javier's hands across the bruises and over to his side. When he let go, he laid his hand on Javier's thigh, moving against his skin in soft, steady motions. Javier leaned forward again, returning his lips to Kevin's while his hands slid across his torso, his chest, his arms and shoulders, and then Kevin moved his hand from Esposito's thigh, grasping his cock and running his hand down the length of it and back up. 

Javier leaned back, breathing deeply through his nose as Kevin stroked him. His hands fell useless to his sides and Kevin moved in closer, covering a nipple with his mouth and flicking his hot tongue across the nub. He gave one final suck on the skin before moving his mouth to Javier's ear.

"You wanna?" he whispered with a nod down to Javier's growing erection.

"Can you right now?"

Kevin tugged playfully at his bottom lip. "I guess we'll see."

Javier smiled and moved to turn him around when Kevin stopped him. He kissed him once on the lips before sliding back, leaning against the headboard. He pulled Javier toward him until he was leaning over him, his fists digging into the bedding on either side of Kevin.

"Are you sure?" They'd never been like this before. Javier knew that it was possible, but it seemed like it would require more flexibility than he thought likely at this juncture.

"We'll make it work," Kevin breathed as he kissed Javier again.

Javier reached into his nightstand for lube and a condom. He didn't take his eyes off of Kevin's face as he began to prep him. He watched as Kevin's eyes fluttered closed, as he bit his lips and released them with a moan. It was a face of contentment. It was one that Javier felt like he could look at forever. Study it. Memorize it. Forget that they had ever fought and that he had ever caused Kevin to look any other way. He wanted to kick himself for being such a judgmental, blame-assigning dick.

Of all the times they had been together, this was the first time Javier had looked at Kevin. Really looked. This time, he couldn't take his eyes off his face as he pushed into him. It was a face he had pushed away -- a face that had made him angry to think about for so long. But after being hit with the realization that, for a millimeter, it was almost a face he would never see again, he couldn't look away. 

Their other times together had been hard and fast and dirty. Easy to write off as a product of external forces. But this time, Javier went slowly as Kevin's knees curled around his elbows, letting him take some of the weight of their position. Javier was gentle, and if anything, it was better than the times before.

He watched as Kevin's eyes fluttered closed. He watched as Kevin sucked his lips between his teeth before releasing them with a sigh. 

He drew breath, and Javier watched the rise and fall of his chest before his eyes landed on the bruises. The rougher patches were a dark purple where two blows had landed, and the color radiated out, changing and fading into his pale skin as it went. The shape and movement transfixed him. It was beautiful. Carefully, slowly, he moved one arm, letting Kevin's leg wrap itself around his side as he lightly laid his hand again on his chest. His palm covered one of the darkest spots. He slid his hand up, savoring the way the texture changed as he went.

Kevin reached for his elbow, pulling his arm closer until Javier's hand reached his face. Teeth pressed into a knuckle until Javier fanned his fingers out, brushing against Kevin's cheek before cradling the unblemished side of his head. 

Kevin reached for his other arm, his short nails scratching lightly at Javier's wrist until he moved, letting Kevin fold around him as he leaned closer. With legs around his waist and Ryan's arms tangled with his, he began to move faster, lost in the blue of Kevin's eyes and the rhythmic sounds around them until he couldn't stand it any longer. His eyes squeezed and his head jerked back with a groan as he came.

Carefully, he pulled out, and rolled over, collapsing into a heap next to Ryan. With one arm still draped over Kevin's chest, Javier tried to catch his breath. Fingers curled around his forearm as a gentle kiss landed on his forehead.

"Okay?" Kevin asked. Javier smiled between breaths, uttering just a simple "yeah." 

Javier took a moment to collect himself. Overcome with a sense of contentment he had never felt with Kevin before, a laugh bubbled out before he could stop it. Not even a full laugh. A giggle, almost, though he would never admit that to anyone, ever. Still smiling, he pushed himself up and stretched. Bringing his hands back down, he rubbed at his eyes and face before standing.

"Want some water or something?"

"Nah, I'm good," Kevin said as he pulled a sheet over himself. Javier couldn't quite shake the image of a puppy rolled up in a snuggly blanket. He bit down on the corners of his mouth, willing himself not to break into a fit of giggles again.

"Well, I'ma get cleaned up, ready for bed," Javier said as he made for the door. "Yell if you need something?"

"Sure."

Javier made his way to the bathroom and flicked on the light. It didn't take much to get cleaned up from their encounter, and soon he was caught up in his nightly routine. It was while he was brushing his teeth that the image of Puppy Kevin burst back into his brain. He grinned, doubling over to hold back a laugh that was more for their returning friendliness than it was for cute imagery. But as toothpaste began to dribble down his chin, he knew it was impossible. He spit quickly into the sink and turned the faucet on high, hoping to mask his chuckles until he was able to rinse his mouth without drowning.

When all was done, he stared back at himself. Clean. Refreshed. Happy. They were back. Things were going to stop being weird between them, and get back to normal. He knew it. Smiling once more, he flicked off the light as he stepped out into the hallway. His mouth was dry. Kevin's probably, too, he thought to himself as he headed for the kitchen. Kevin hadn't asked for a bottle of water, but Javier thought it seemed like the nice thing to do. 

The door was still open a crack when Javier got to it, ice-cold bottle of water in hand. It pushed open silently, and he was about to speak when he saw Kevin, back to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, left arm striding methodically up and down, the right braced behind him as he leaned back.

Everything about Javier screamed to avert his eyes, turn around and go back the way he came. And yet, he couldn't. He was mesmerized, not so much by watching Kevin masturbate off the side of his bed, but by what he only just now realized it meant. He replayed the night in his head, then the ones he could clearly remember from before. A pit settled in his stomach when he realized how selfish he had been. 

Kevin had touched him, pleasured him, been fucked by him. He'd made Javier come more times than he could count, but as far as he could remember, Javier hadn't been responsible in all that time for a single orgasm of Kevin's. He swallowed hard. Because then he realized it wasn't just that he hadn't noticed, it was that he hadn't cared to notice. He hadn't wanted to notice and had in fact gone out of his way to not think of, look at or touch Kevin in any way that wasn't related to his own satisfaction.

He watched Kevin's gentle movements and realized that he couldn't remember Kevin's last date. Javier had never stopped seeing other people, but thinking back, he realized that as their times together grew moderately more frequent, Kevin's outside dates grew less and less. And he didn't know what Kevin's romantic life had been like during the 12-week gap that was Javier's suspension, but the only thing he had picked up on when he returned was a sense of exhaustion and withdrawal from the world around him. And at the time, Javier thought it right and just. The thought shamed him now, and all he could focus on was the intense loneliness that Kevin must have felt.

Javier set the water on the floor and slowly approached the bed. Kevin didn't turn as Javier moved closer. It didn't really surprise him. If the infomercial were to be believed, a bowling ball dropped from a height couldn't disturb a glass of red wine, so his knees surely wouldn't garner Kevin's notice. As he reached for Kevin, though, he wished they had. As soon as Javier touched him, Kevin gasped, practically leaping out of his skin.

SHIT. Javier remembered too late about Kevin's bad ear and quickly whispered into his right.

"It's okay, sorry, it's just me," he said as his fingers brushed across Kevin's left elbow and came to rest at his side. Kevin didn't speak or turn, but Javier could feel him relax slightly. He pressed his lips to Kevin's cheek as his hand slid down to his hip. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His arm curled around Kevin's body until their fingers touched. "I'm so sorry."

He hesitated only briefly before laying his hand at the base of Kevin's cock, letting his fingers wrap around it as Kevin leaned into him. He thought it would be weird, touching another man's penis. And maybe it was for those first few seconds, but as his hand slipped comfortably down its length still wet with lube and as his thumb circled its head before reversing course, everything felt right. It wasn't that far removed from a late-night wank in the shower, after all. He was just jerking off a friend, returning one of many favors. And there was nothing wrong with that.

In fact, Javi, was having a hard time finding much wrong with anything in that moment. He'd taken a lot of women to bed in his life. He'd been with screamers and talkers. He'd been with laughers and women who were so quiet he almost had to make sure they were still awake. 

Kevin was like none of them. With Kevin, his chest heaved with deep breaths as whispers faded to nothing. His hands caressed and squeezed Javier's forearm or thighs as other words were cut short before they could even really begin. As Javier buried his lips in the crook of Kevin's neck and trailed over the skin, he watched as Kevin bit down on his lip before releasing it with a moan that threw his head back to rest on Javier's shoulder, exposing his throat to Javier.

Kevin writhed against him. The curve of his back hugged Javier's cock, and he could feel it begin to harden again. Moving his mouth from Kevin's neck, he focused on the wall in front of them. He wanted this, for once, to be about Kevin. He thought of other things as he tried to ignore the ache in his groin. 

Baseball. Football. Sandwiches. Gunshots. A streak of red on a bathroom wall.

Javier squeezed his eyes tightly shut against imagery that had invaded his brain. He focused instead on Kevin. The sound of his breath. The salt of his flesh. The feel of slick skin in his hand. Sweat beaded at Kevin's brow as he began to tense. Javier swore he could hear Kevin's heart racing. Feel the blood coursing through his veins. 

Kevin raised an arm, reaching behind him, running his fingers across hair that was too short to hold and grasping at the back of Javier's neck. He muttered something about being close, and Javier let the fingers of his free hand slide down his body, caressing Kevin and eliciting a moan that was enough to make Javi's cheeks flush and his dick twitch. But it was when he reached Kevin's tip, when heat exploded into his hand and seeped smoothly between his fingers in a way that should not have felt nearly so foreign, Javier couldn't stop himself. With Kevin's back pressed against him, it took only one small thrust of his hips, and floodgates opened.

He held Kevin tightly, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"I'm really s--" before Javier could finish his apology, Kevin shifted his body, planting his lips on the corner of Javier's mouth in a brief kiss.

"Thank you," he breathed. For a moment, they just sat there, holding each other until the warmth that had flowed through them faded to a damp, sticky chill. Absently, Javier took the corner of the bed's top sheet and swabbed at their skin. 

"Didn't mean to make such a mess."

Kevin snorted out a laugh as he rubbed at his face. Still smiling, he arched his back in a stretch that brought a wince to his face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Kevin answered. "Yeah, you'd think I wouldn't forget." Shaking his head Kevin rounded the bed. "I'm gonna...you know," he said as he stifled a yawn and waggled in the general direction of the bathroom.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll take care of these sheets," Javier said as he scooted to the head of the bed and tugged at a corner. A thought hit him then, immediate and unshakable. "Hey, Kev," he called out as he leaned back against the headboard.

"Yeah?" Kevin turned from the doorway, one arm resting on the frame, and something about the way their eyes met sent crackles of electricity down Javier's body.

"Why did..." the words caught in Javier's throat. He coughed and tried again, but those words, too, came up empty, and he looked at his hands. 

"Hey, what is it?" Kevin said as he walked back to the bed. Javier had never been a chatterbox, but he'd never had a problem holding up his end of a conversation. Especially one he started.

"I've been an asshat," he finally blurted out. "A real jerk. And not just now. *All* the times we've...and...why'd you take that? Why'd you put up with it? In your shoes, I wouldn't have."

Kevin took a deep breath before sitting down on the bed, his gaze looking through the bedroom door and into the darkened hallway. He sat quietly for a moment before speaking.

"I may be a hopeless romantic, but I'm not stupid," he finally said. "I never in a milion years thought we'd *ever* be...like this. And that was fine! I was happy being your partner, and being your friend has been...you've been my best friend. I really mean that. And then after Jenny, I just...I don't know, man. I shouldn't have let that happen. I definitely shouldn't have let it keep going, but it's-" he stopped himself short and swallowed deeply before letting out a shaking breath. "Javi, when it comes to you, I'll take what I can get. From the second I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were special. There was just something about you. ... I just...I never thought we'd be here." He laughed and looked to the ceiling. "Ah, hell. Maybe I am an idiot."

He slipped into a silence then, bowed his head and ran long fingers against the back of his neck. 

It had been a long time since anyone had called Javier special. Strong, tough and brave, sure. A good soldier. A good cop. But special? His grandmother had called him special once. He was 8 and suffering his first heartbreak at the hands of a pig-tailed little girl who had laughed at his valentine. The other boys had fancy cards with perforated edges and witty messages next to cartoon characters, sports stars and superheroes. 

Javier -- Jimmy, as everyone called him then -- could still remember his: a lopsided heart cut from construction paper with a simple "BE MY VALENTINE" in silver glitter, the last word curving upward as he ran out of space, others smearing as he folded it before the glue was all the way dry. And it was green. When the teacher stepped out of the room, the whole class laughed. They called him poor and dirty, and the girl of his dreams discarded his heart with barely a second glance.

He went home that day in tears. His grandmother called him to her lap and gently coaxed the story out of him. Afterward, she held him tight and kissed his head.

"Listen to me, mijo," she said. "Forget about them. You are a very special boy and some day you'll meet a very special girl who will love you no matter what."

Javier's eyes stung with tears. He tried to fight them off, but several burned their way down his face anyway. Kevin did him the courtesy of not looking, instead gently patting Javier's leg, letting his fingers linger for a moment before rising and walking silently down the hall. 

Javier ran his hand over his face before turning back to the bedding. He quickly stripped the sheets and tossed everything into a corner of the closet and pulled fresh linens from the top shelf. As he began tucking corners beneath the mattress, he could hear the unmistakable sound of a plastic cap and rattling pills resonating from the bathroom. Kevin had been given a few days worth of pills for pain, and the thought of him hurting silently – now and long before ever being shot at -- made Javier's chest tight.

Once again, he found himself racing to push the thought from his mind, turning his focus instead to the bed. The top was flat and wrinkle-free, the edges crisp and the corners tight. It was the sort of bed-making that would have made his drill sergeant proud. 

The bathtub began to fill with water.

Javier pulled on a pair of shorts and took the top sheet for the mattress and snapped it into the air, watching as it floated down over the bed. If he were still in the service, he would have tightly tucked all the edges under the mattress with military corners. But he wasn't. So instead, he threw himself on the bed with aplomb, relishing the moment as the cool fabric of the sheet whooshed into the air and slowly settled around him. He kept it to himself, but there were few things Javier appreciated more than fine bedding. Nice material. High thread counts. Fancy pillows -- sans goose down.

Yeah. Javier had a thing for bedding. And now, with the light, clean sheet gently kissing his skin, he finally felt calm and relaxed and grateful for all the things he had in his life. Chief among them, a best friend. The stress of the last few weeks and days melted away, and with the cool sheets and warm thoughts it wasn't long before tiredness began to settle into his bones, his mind drifting from fuzzy topic to fuzzy topic. 

It wasn't until he heard the squeak of a floorboard that he registered the sound of a draining bathtub and opened his eyes. The light was bright, and he squinted against it.

"Hey," he said as Kevin, clad in sweat pants and a T-shirt creeped around the bed. Kevin winced at him and looked repentent.

"Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."

"S'okay," Javier said as he stifled a yawn. "Didn't mean to fall asleep, anyway. Guess I ought to turn in." He pushed the sheet off himself and moved to push himself up.

"No, no," Kevin said. "Stay there. I've got the couch tonight." Javier was about to object, but Kevin intercepted him. "I'm fine, Javi," he said. "I don't need to kick you out of your own bed." He smiled slightly before reaching down and grabbing a pillow. "I'm taking your extra pillow, though, because damn-" Javier reached out and grabbed Kevin's wrist. "Or you can keep it," Kevin said without missing a beat.

"Or you could stay." 

Kevin looked at him, his head tilted slightly to one side and his brow furrowed as if he had misheard. Javier hadn't planned on grabbing Kevin's wrist. Hadn't thought about those words before they came out of his mouth. But there they were, no take-backs. And he found, surprisingly, that he didn't want to take them back. 

"I mean, it's a big bed," he continued. "No reason either of us have to sleep on that old couch."

"You sure?"

Javier nodded and released Kevin's wrist, patting the mattress as he did so. Kevin slid gently between the sheets, and though they kept a respectable distance from each other, as Javier reached for the switch on the bedside lamp, he couldn't help but feel like everything was changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I need to address my biggest fear with this chapter -- namely the switch from Esposito and Ryan to Javier and Kevin. My original intention was to only do it for their love scenes throughout the story, but then I realized the first two were really more sex scene than love scene. So then I opted to reserve it for the half of the fic when they finally start being honest with each other and themselves. I really hope it wasn't a jarring or confusing change for anybody.


	3. The Light of Day

The next morning, Javier woke early, quietly slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He was just pulling the first pancakes off the stove when Kevin emerged from the bedroom, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"Morning."

"Hey," Kevin said through a yawn. "Is there coffee?" He took a seat on the barstool across from Javier and gratefully accepted the New York's Finest mug Javier handed him. Javier set a plate in front him.

"Pancakes and bacon, too."

"You are the best," Kevin said as he dug into his plate, only to stop and stare at it after the first bite. "Are these blueberry?" Javier shrugged noncommitally as Kevin peered around him at the bowl of batter and tub of fresh fruit. "You made me blueberry pancakes from scratch?"

"Yeah, well, I know you like the muffins," Javier trailed. "Good?"

"Phenomenal."

Javier smiled and dropped more batter into his skillet, watched for it to bubble and gave it an expert flip. When he glanced back Kevin's way, he was munching on a piece of bacon and absently rubbing at his ear.

"How's your ear?" 

"Hmm?" Kevin glanced up.

Javier motioned at his ear. "Hearing any better?"

"Ringing, mostly. Unless there are storm sirens going off right now, and you're just being remarkably calm about it."

"Afraid not." Javier pulled his pancake onto a plate and set it down opposite Kevin before slathering it in butter and syrup. "That's good, though, right? Didn't they say it was a sign that...you know."

"That I wouldn't be deaf on one side?" Javier nodded. "Yeah. But for now it's just irritating." Kevin went back to violently rubbing at his ear, before Javier swatted his hand away.

"Stop fiddling with it, and eat your breakfast."

"Yes, mother," Kevin replied with a smile that Javier couldn't help but return as he carried his plate to the empty seat next to Kevin. After breakfast, they did the dishes together and even shared the newspaper Javier had retrieved from the outer hall. He couldn't help but watch Kevin as he ate, as he dried plates and as he spread the paper across the table and handed Javier the sports section. Javier thought over the past year and the events of the last night. His grandmother's words kept playing in his brain. 

_Someday you'll meet a very special girl who will love you no matter what._

As he watched Kevin, he couldn't help but think Grandma was half right. And maybe half right was more than fine. Unfortunately, his eyeing of Kevin didn't go unnoticed. 

"Do I have food on my face or something?"

"What? No."

"Then, why are you staring at me?"

"Pshht, I'm not st-" Kevin raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean, I was just, I didn't..." Kevin set the newspaper down and looked Javier in the eye. "Sorry." Javier finally said. "Didn't mean to stare." 

"Okay." Kevin nodded his head and picked the newspaper back up.

"It's just, I was thinking," Javier began. Kevin put the paper back down, but Javier had already rounded the corner, passed him completely and occupied himself by retrieving the fallen DVDs from the last night.

"Javi."

"I was just thinking if, sometime, you wanted to...if you wanted to trade places, I'd be okay with that, I think."

"Trade places?" Kevin walked to Javier and took the DVDs from him, replacing them neatly on the table. "I don't-"

"You know. The next time...if we..." Javier stopped, looked down at his feet, and snorted at his own trouble with words before looking back up. "If we get together again, sometime, if you wanted to switch places, I think I'd be okay with trying that. If that's even your thing, if it's not, that's fine, too. I'm just sayin'."

As realization crept into Kevin's eyes, a slight smile played at his lips, but it was gone almost as soon as it formed. Replaced with a tinge of sadness.

"I'd like that," he said, "but..." the words trailed off into silence as he backed away.

"What?"

Kevin closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he lowered himself back onto a stool.

"Javi, what the hell are we doing?"

"What do you mean?" Javier took a seat next to him. A lump was beginning to form in his stomach. He was trying to make things right.

"Don't get me wrong," Kevin said, "Being with you has been great. Really great. But I've been thinking too. About Jenny..."

"Bro,"

"Well, maybe not Jenny specifically, but the idea of Jenny. Dating and falling in love. Being a couple. I want that with someone, and if we're just screwing around..." Kevin paused, searching for more words. "I don't think I can get to that point with anyone if, in the back of my mind, I'm wondering when we might hook up again, is what I'm saying. It wouldn't be fair. So, maybe we should just-"

Javier leaned forward and placed his lips on Kevin's. It wasn't like their other kisses, full of booze and need. It was soft and tender and comfortable. When Javier pulled away, Kevin sat there for a moment, lips slightly parted and eyes still closed. As he opened them, bright and blue and beautiful, Javier took his hands in his own.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what we're doing or where we're going. But I do know that you make me feel things I never felt before. You make me want to do things I've never done before, and I think that has to mean something." Javier looked down at their hands, fingers entwined together in a way that was was approaching perfect. 

"Javier, if we start something and it doesn't work-"

"I don't care. It'll work, because I don't think I can go back to-"

"Ah, hell, that's good enough for me," Kevin gripped Javier's hands and pulled him closer into a kiss that nearly toppled the stools they were sitting on and left them erupting nose-to-nose in a fit of smiling laughter. They had just kissed again when the door slammed.

"Don't cops lock their doors -- oh, hello there."

Javier immediately pulled away, almost tipping his barstool in the opposite direction as Kevin's sister Carrie walked in.

"Classy," Carrie said. "Kevin, why do you always fall for the homophobes?"

"Hey, I'm not a-"

"He's new, and that's okay," Kevin said, before turning to Javier. "That's okay." Javier nodded and looked away, a tinge of pink washing over his cheeks. Kevin turned back to his sister. "What's up? Where are Mom and Dad?"

Oh, they're watching the kids," she said. "I've got a sonagram in 40 minutes and told them I'd stop in and check on you on the way."

"Sonogram?" Javier said. "I thought you just had a --"

"Irish twins," Carrie answered slowly and coldly. "And that's why you need to do a better job of looking out for him. Because my husband just deployed, my parents live in Florida now, and he's the only male role model my kids have, understand?"

"Yes," Javier coughed. "Yeah, I do."

"Good." She turned back to Kevin. "Anyway, Mom and Dad want to meet you for lunch at noon. They'll call with details."

"Okay."

"Now, I've got to get out of here; my cab's waiting down there." She leaned in for what would have been a quick hug if she hadn't held him so tightly. She kissed his cheek and drew a shaky breath as she pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes as she made for the door. "God, Javier, if you break his heart, I'll break your legs." Javier nodded, but the door had already slammed behind her.

"I don't think your sister likes me very much."

"Nah," Kevin turned to face him. "You only need to worry if she starts giving you names like Sweetums or Honey Bunch. Then she's pissed and you might want to fear for your life."

"Good to know," Javier said. "I am sorry, though. I guess all the other stuff I said probably seems like crap given the landspeed record I broke getting away from you."

"Javi, I've known how I feel for more than half my life, and more than half the people I know have no idea. That includes Castle and Beckett, the rest of the police force, and until not _too_ long ago, you and my fiancee. What kind of man would I be, if I expected you to be ready to shout from the rooftops?"

"Kind of jerk."

"That's right." Kevin checked his watch before glancing at the TV. "Wanna fire up the Xbox? I think we've got time for a game of Madden."

Javier grinned and grabbed a controller, redemption in sight.


	4. Epilogue

The next month was a bit of blur. Kevin made a complete recovery and his parents hugged him -- and Javier -- tightly before returning to Florida; he was taken off desk duty just in time to help tackle a series of puzzling murders; and nobody outside of the immediate Ryan family was any the wiser about new developments in the healed "bromance" of the two partners. At first, Javier thought Castle might be on to them, but Kevin was pretty sure he and Beckett were too busy with their own secret fling to notice.

Kevin and Javier hadn't had a lot of time to themselves in those weeks, however. And when they were together, Javier noticed Kevin pulling back. Giving him space. Watching and waiting, he realized, for Javier to decide this was all a phase. A rare stress-induced blip in the string of women that paraded through Javier's life.

To be honest, he had the same concerns sometimes, and was a little relieved to realize Kevin was willing to give him an out. But then there were the things he couldn't deny. He couldn't deny the way his eyes were drawn to Kevin in slow moments. He couldn't deny the direction his thoughts wandered when he was alone or how the memory of Kevin's touch brought a smile to his lips and an ache to his groin.

It was with that in mind that he called Kevin to his apartment. 

"Wow." Kevin brought a hand to his mouth as he entered the apartment. Candles. Red wine. Chicken Parm bubbling in the tiny oven. "You did all this?"

"With my bare hands." Javier casually -- he hoped -- draped an arm around Kevin's waist. "I thought we could use a date night or something. No murders. No Madden. Just us. And some food and this expensive bottle of wine."

"Sounds amazing." Kevin smiled and tilted his head just enough to kiss Javier's cheek. Javier's eyes closed at the contact, and he turned, wrapping both arms around Kevin and pulling him into a kiss. At first it was just their lips mingling together, but soon Kevin's parted and Javier quickly deepened the kiss. Kevin's hands had begun to slide up Javier's body and run beneath his jacket when the oven timer started to beep.

Javier growled a curse at the gadgetry and reluctantly stepped away. But the meal was wonderful. They both enjoyed it, sitting side by side, refilling wine glasses and sharing stories from youth. As conversation began to wind down and candles shrank to nubs, Kevin laid a hand on Javier's knee.

"I had a great time tonight," he said. Javier curled his fingers around Kevin's.

"Doesn't have to end yet. In fact, I kind of hoped it wouldn't."

"Really."

"Really."

Stopping just long enough to extinguish candles, Javier and Kevin made their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind them. Stripped to his briefs, Javier soon found himself on his back in bed. Kevin straddled him, running his hands up his chest as he leaned forward for a kiss. One hand reached for the nightstand and retrieved a condom. He handed it to Javier and rolled off of him, propping himself up on an elbow.

Javier looked at the packet in his hand and then to Kevin before reaching out and placing it in his palm, curling his fingers around it with a kiss.

"You sure?"

Javier nodded. "I think so." Their relationship – he wasn't afraid to use the word now -- had started wtih a lot of panic and doubt and denial mixed with bogus rationalization, but if the last few weeks had been any indication, he really was head-over-heels for Kevin Ryan, who had done so much for him. It only seemed right that he let Kevin take the reins.

Kevin had him roll over onto his stomach. It'd be easier that way, he said. But every time Kevin's hands neared his backside, he couldn't help but tense up.

"Javi, you really don't have to if-"

"No, it's okay," Javier said. "Just nervous, I guess." 

Kevin nodded his head, thinking, before springing off the bed. "Give me 10 minutes." He ran out the door, and Javier could hear him, practically hopping down the hall as he tried to dress himself without slowing down. The front door slammed shut, and Javier repositioned himself, crossing his arms across a pillow, and resting his chin upon them. This wasn't where he had expected to be a year ago, either.

When Kevin returned, his cheeks and nose were still pink from the late October air, and a chill radiated from his clothing. It wasn't an uncomfortable cold. More like an ice pack pulled from the freezer on a hot day, and Javier closed his eyes at the contact as Kevin stretched out next to him, enveloping him in cool comfort.

"Where'd you go?"

Kevin smiled at him and held up a plastic bag. "Corner market." Without another word he stood up, shrugged out of his jacket and T-shirt and disappeared behind Javier. The bag crinkled; he could hear cellophane tearing and the snap of a flip-top, and then there was silence.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Helping you relax." Kevin rubbed his hands together, and reached for Javier's foot. His hands were warm and slick with oil that felt like velvet against Javier's skin. He closed his eyes with a sigh as Kevin pressed a thumb into the ball of his foot and drew relaxing circles. He ran his fingers between Javier's toes, spreading them out before moving to his calf, kneading the taut muscle, and repeating the process on his other leg.

Hands slid up the side of his thighs, over his hips and came together at midback. Kevin was on him again, the denim of his jeans rough against his skin as his hands traveled upward, massaging his shoulders with precision. He leaned forward until his chest was pressed against Javier's back. His hands stretched Javier's arms out to the sides and followed their length until their fingers clasped. Kevin's breath was hot against his neck, and Javier had never felt more relaxed in his life.

"Where'd you learn that?" he mumbled into his pillow.

"I'm a man of many skills," Kevin whispered before placing a warm, wet kiss between Javier's shoulder blades. A trail of kisses continued downward, and when Kevin reached the small of his back, he flicked his tongue in such a way that Javier couldn't help but gasp. That mystery spot sent shivers through him. Kevin paused, leaned back and took a breath before placing his palm on Javier's neck, following his spine, and when he reached that spot again, Javier arched his back with a groan.

Kevin's hands went to his hips, holding him in place as he peppered Javier's body with more soft kisses. With Javier's face planted into a pillow and his legs spread, Kevin could reach anything he wanted. He started with his cock, letting his hands still slick with oil travel its length for a few strokes while his mouth teased Javier's balls. His tongue traveled between his legs, through his seam, and when it brushed across Javier's puckered entrance he saw stars.

"Oh, holy Jesus." Javier clenched the sheets. He could feel Kevin's smile and a puff of air as he couldn't contain a small laugh before returning his attention to Javier's ass. His tongue lashed out, rubbing, massaging and drawing spiraling circles around the ring of muscle, and it was enough to make Javier's eyes water -- and when he pushed through the first time, Javier thought he might die a little. His breath caught in his throat and his heart seemed to pause midbeat as everything went numb before bursting back to life in a sea of pleasure that made his head spin.

He heard another cap flip, and Kevin's touch disappeared for a moment before returning -- lubricated hands glided over him, gentle and barely there at first then firmer, almost like he was working a deep kink from a sore neck. And then he was inside. Pushing and prodding and stretching in ways that Javier was certain should have felt wrong but never felt more right. There was pressure and pleasure, and Javier was helpless to stop the string of profanity and blasphemy that streamed from his mouth.

Oh, Jesus. Oh, God. Oh, Fuck.

Kevin's lips were on him. His fingers were in him, and Javier felt like his skin was on fire. Finally, there was a slowness. An easy pull out, and then nothing until Kevin's tongue traveled back up his back, between his shoulders and across nis neck until it swirled lightly in his ear.

"Are you really sure?" he whispered. Javier could feel Kevin's erection against his body, and it only fueled the fire he felt.

"God, just do it," he mumbled into the pillow.

Kevin grinned -- Javier couldn't see it, but he could feel it in the air -- and kissed his neck once more before returning to the other end of the bed. He heard Kevin slip out of his remaining clothes. Heard foil tear and the squeeze of lube. He expected Kevin would enter him immediately, but that expectation was blown all to hell when he felt Kevin's cock between his legs, sliding over him. Holding both of them in his hands. And then he pulled back, added more lube and rubbed himself between Javier's cheeks, over his hole as his finger had been before.

Javier's pulse quickened. Could this really be happening?

And then it did. 

Kevin was inside him. Just his tip, at first. Hands held Javier steady as he pushed further, and Javier was certain he heard a low moan as their bodies met. Kevin started gentle and slow, pushing in and pulling out with easy rhythmic consistency. As Javier became accustomed to the sensation, to the way his body rocked and his toes curled while all the nerve endings in his lower half tingled, Kevin sped up. He murmured words Javier couldn't make out as their bodies crashed together, and Javier was in heaven.

With every thrust of Kevin's hips, Javier was 25 years old, a rookie cop chasing down his first suspect. His feet pounded against the pavement, his lungs filled with air and his heart raced in his chest, sending life to all his muscles. Down an alley. Around boxes. Over a fence. Never stopping. Never slowing. He could see the suspect drawing nearer. Closer. Closer. Finally, all it took was one flying leap.

Javier would have been loud but for the pillow pressed to his face, muffling the sound as euphoria tore through his body. Kevin wasn't far behind. Javier could feel him spasm as he came with a shivering exhale of breath like music.

For a moment, they were still, adrenaline fading, lost in a sea of tranquility. And when Kevin pulled out of him, he felt like a piece of himself was missing. Kevin tugged at the towel beneath him, and Javier rolled onto his side, watching sleepily as Kevin cleaned up after them and joined him. Side-by-side he pulled him close, lightly kissing the tip of his nose, and Javier didn't even care where his mouth had been.

"Okay?"

Javier sighed. He had spent a lot of time lately wishing for everything to be okay. For everything to be normal, again. And, strange as it may have once seemed, he knew as he lay there, wrapped naked in another man's arms, legs tangled together and warm from his touch, everything was beyond okay. It was perfect. 

As for normal...well, they'd have to wait for the math to do its thing on that one. And that was a thought that made him smile.


End file.
